Ink and Water
by bethanyyerinn
Summary: Hermann finds he has a bit of a tattoo kink, and a bit of rain makes it go from casual to uncontrollable. PWP Newt/Hermann. Post-canon.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Post-canon. Shameless Newtmann P with maybe a teensy bit of P. Hermann's POV.**

* * *

Hermann had never been one to experience lust. In fact, he wasn't one to experience any sort of attraction to any human being. Hardly even the friendly kind—though respect he held a great deal of, and his ability to work with others in a business-like manner was not completely lacking. But on a personal level… he preferred to keep others at a safe distance. Most people rather annoyed him, if truth be told. They were fickle and dishonest and it made no sense to him that they created rules only to break them later. It's why he stuck with numbers. They didn't lie or change their minds. They stuck with rules the way they should. And, of course, there was no companionship involved with mathematics. It was perfect for him.

But then came the day that changed all that.

The person, if he was being frank.

The most irritating, idiotic, unorganized, melodramatic, attractive, hilarious, brilliant person he'd ever known.

Newton Geiszler.

* * *

Hermann couldn't help but respect the man for his brain, that much was immediately clear. But at exactly the same time, he couldn't help but hate him the moment he saw him. Stupid grin, carrying voice, barely professional wear even in a professional environment… and worst of all, his arms were covered in tattoos.

And worse than _that_, tattoos of _Kaiju_. It was an abomination.

So why was it that Hermann _could not stop staring_? Maybe it was the 'train wreck' theory. Morbid curiosity and disgust made him unable to look away.

But there was an unfamiliar twisting in his gut as he glanced at the other man, and strange, foreign thoughts that he hardly understood flew through his head.

_I wonder what I would see under those layers. _

_I bet I could figure out a way to stop him talking for an hour or two._

_What exactly would those hands feel like running against me?_

He was so unexperienced with human interaction that he wasn't even sure what to think of the thoughts. They didn't make sense to him. None of those things mattered—well, on the other hand, making him stop talking for a while would be quite the relief.

Despite the thoughts—or maybe _in_ _spite_ of the thoughts—the two bickered constantly. When they first saw each other, when they worked together in Berlin, when they were moved to Hong Kong, after the Jaeger program was shut down…

The only thing that stopped them fighting was the Drift.

Obviously, Hermann had utterly lost his mind the day he decided to Drift with Newton. Possibly spending so much time with Newton had made his tendency for brash and idiotic behavior rub off on Hermann.

But either way, things changed after that. It was only once, but it felt like there was a connection between them that lasted even after it was over—past the matching red rings they sported had around their left irises for several weeks before they healed away. Hermann understood Newton just a little bit more than before. Saw that his appearance was just him rebelling against the stereotype everyone had been putting on him ever since he took his first IQ test. That he was jerky and jumpy and twitchy because he'd suffered more than enough physical hurt in his life and it would always leave him unable to let his guard down, unable to relax. That humor was part of the way that he dealt with how hopeless of a situation they had been stuck in.

Hermann looked at Newton differently after that.

Or, more, he looked at him just the same as he always had, but now he didn't pretend he didn't see the things that he did.

Such as his bizarre physical attraction to the other man that he had hitherto ignored.

After he got out of his denial phase and classified his feelings as both 'affection' and 'lust', he was able to understand them better. Realize what things he actually liked about Newton. Strangely enough, some of the things that annoyed him the most were also the ones that most endeared him to the other man. Personality-wise, his tendency to talk far too much and too loudly, his inability to clean up after himself, the way he called Hermann 'Herms' when they were on good terms. And physically… For the life of him he could not understand why, but Hermann suddenly developed a bit of a kink for tattoos. What used to be ugly scarring to him was now art, and he wanted to see every single one… touch them all… taste them… know each one intimately…

* * *

He shook his head absently. Oh, he'd dozed off. Not completely surprising, as he'd been packing for more than twenty hours now. It might not take someone else quite so long, but as he limped around and had trouble carrying things, packing was not his forte. Not to mention it was absolutely pouring outside, enough that Hermann could hear it from his room, and the sound of rain had always been enough to put him to sleep.

Now that the Breach was closed, the Shatterdome was obviously to be shut down. There was no need for it anymore. No more Kaiju, no more Jaegers. Hermann hadn't actually accepted any jobs yet—though he'd gotten many offers, mostly at universities, after he and Newton's involvement in closing the Breach—because he didn't know where he wanted to live. But still he was packing. He wasn't one to save important decisions to the last minute normally, but he couldn't bring himself to make one. Somehow… he didn't want to think about being somewhere else.

But if he was being very honest with himself, that wasn't really it. Not entirely. The reality was he didn't want to choose where to go without knowing where Newton was going. The half a dozen universities that had offered both of them positions were suddenly amazingly attractive to him. He wanted to blame that on the fact that they had Drifted, and thus were forever connected. And maybe that was part of the truth. He refused to think about the rest of it too much.

He was too tired to keep working, but too short on time to stop. He'd procrastinated, one thing he really needed not to do. He decided the best way to wake himself up was with a shower, so he turned it on and went back into the other room to find a towel.

A tugging in the back of his mind told him that Newton was in the area and headed this way. It was part of the Drifting thing. He kind of had Newton-radar now, which was mostly annoying. It made it hard to concentrate when he was always too aware of where Newton was, vaguely what he was doing.

Before he could tell himself not to do it, he leaned over and looked at himself in the mirror. After barely a moment he mentally hit himself. What the hell was he doing? It didn't matter what he looked like, for God's sake, it was _Newton_! Plus, he always looked the same, so what did it matter? He started mussing with his fringe, trying to make it lie better on his head, before almost literally smacking his own hand away.

Then came the knock. Manic and too loud, like everything Newton did. Hermann could almost see in his mind's eye Newton fidgeting on the other side of the door, already growing impatient at the fact that the door hadn't opened yet.

Hermann, in a strange mood apparently, decided to have a little bit of fun. He pressed his ear to the door before yelling through it, "Yes? Who is it?"

"You know damn well who it is."

"Oh, right, _you_. What do you want, then?"

"Actually, I thought you might want some help packing. I know… with your leg and all…"

Hermann was surprised by this statement. It seemed too… thoughtful for Newton to think of it. Sometimes he forgot the man was actually rather kind when he wanted to be.

"Maybe it was stupid, I can just go."

Hermann felt Newton beginning to walk away. Their mental connection, as it often did, screamed in his mind, "Don't let him leave!"

For once he didn't ignore it.

Hermann swung the door open, saying, "Actually, that's quite thought—"

He stopped dead in his tracks when Newton turned around, his heart stopping as he completely and utterly forgot how to breathe.

"Uh… dude, what?" asked Newton, for once freezing—no more twitching for the moment being—in what was obviously a mixture of self-consciousness and confusion.

Hermann was trying to figure out where his organs—specifically his lungs and heart—had disappeared to. And was wondering if he might actually fall over dead from what he was seeing.

Newton had quite obviously been outside recently. And it was pouring quite as hard as Hermann had supposed, because he was completely soaked, dripping heavily onto the floor. His glasses were in his hand, held limply at his side, because they were so speckled in water that they were useless, and his shirt was too wet to dry them on it.

But that wet shirt was exactly was causing Hermann heart failure.

He was wearing a white button up shirt, as he always did, with his skinny tie that was improperly knotted as not to lie straight across his chest. He was, for some reason, not wearing his leather jacket, and still had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows…

But the shirt, being white, had gone transparent with the water, was clinging to every inch of his torso.

Which meant Hermann looked at Newton and only one thing ran through his mind.

_Oh my dear God. Tattoos._

Through the shirt that was now useless in covering his abdomen, Hermann could see that his chest, his biceps, his shoulders, his belly… all were absolutely covered in tattoos. A collage of rainbow beasts parading across his skin, and God, when had it gotten so _hot_ in here? It had been cold thirty seconds ago.

"Herms… you feelin' alright?" asked Newton. "You look like you're gonna pass out."

Newton came forward, gently taking Hermann's elbow in his hand and leading him to the bed, forcing him to sit on the edge by pressing on his shoulders. The door swung shut behind them, closing with a resolute _bang_.

Newton bent down to look Hermann in the eyes. Hermann managed to look away from his body for a moment, but then he just met the green of his eyes, somehow brighter than usual. The red that used to be around his iris was a just barely-visible pink now, just the same as his. The physical proof of their connection. Nope, that wasn't helping. His eyes moved again… to the dark hair dripping down Newton's forehead, only reminding Hermann of what the rain was currently doing to his shirt. Oh, it was no use trying to distract himself. So Hermann's eyes slid back down to his chest, to the _things_ he was far too intrigued by.

"Herms, you're making me a little worried," Newton said. "You look… scared or something."

He was scared. Petrified. That Newton could have this effect on him. That he wanted so badly to relinquish control of his body, to let it take what it wanted without qualms or reservations or even logic to get in the way.

But he'd never let go of control a day in his life. How could he start now?

But it was too late. The control was gone and he knew it. His head was already out of the equation, and he didn't even care.

He numbly lifted his arm up, and Newton's eyes immediately flashed towards it. Had it not been moving so slowly, maybe he would have figured Hermann was going to hit him.

They reached out until they found purchase where they'd desired: the hollow of Newton's neck where his bare skin was showing. Pale and unmarked. Because he wanted to know what skin felt like at all before moving onto the _things_.

He sucked in a breath, his mind thanking him—because he had honest-to-God been holding it that whole time—at the feeling of it. Skin on skin contact. Something he'd never felt.

Something he thought now he never wanted to go without.

He let his eyes glance back up to Newton's face. He was utterly silent, like he'd stopped breathing too. His eyes were wide in total shock. His lips were parted.

Well, he wasn't meeting resistance thus far. In fact, unless he was quite mistaken, the look on Newton's face displayed far from. Might as well continue.

His other hand reached up to meet the first and he used it to further loosen Newton's tie, slipping it over his head and throwing it aside. Then he undid the second button of his shirt with unsteady fingers—as the first was unbuttoned as always. Then he went for the third. And the fourth and fifth for good measure.

There was a generous portion of ink showing now. A canvas of color that he wanted in every way possible. He felt a throbbing between his legs that he, for the time being, ignored.

He checked Newton's face again. Still not disgusted, just stunned. Looking Hermann in the eyes, asking a silent question of, "What the hell is going on here?"

Hermann couldn't look at the eyes any longer. Back to the chest.

Before Hermann could let his thoughts catch up to his actions, he let his whole hand rest against Newton's chest. His skin was cold and damp, but there was instant heat the moment Hermann touched him. It really felt no different to Hermann than the unmarked skin, but he still sucked in a breath at how much he enjoyed the feel of it beneath his hands.

Then Newton finally did breathe a moment later, and it was a long, deep breath, as if his body severely needed the extra oxygen. It was shaky, loud, with only the very slightest hint of a moan.

Even Hermann, the epitome of virgins, knew what that meant.

He looked at Newton's face for the third time, his hand firmly in place.

"Herms…" Newton finally said, his voice much quieter than usual.

"You're ruining the moment by calling me that," Hermann teased, but in his elation was unable to keep from smiling just a little.

"I never thought you liked my tattoos."

Of course he'd figured out what had Hermann all hot and bothered. He may have been an idiot but he wasn't stupid.

"I didn't think so either," Hermann agreed.

He had absolutely no idea who initiated it—though no matter who did, it was still Hermann's fault it happened, considering he'd been the one deciding to take Newton's clothes off—but suddenly their lips smashed together, Hermann's fingers digging into Newton's skin, clawing under his shirt. Newton, after letting his glasses clatter to the floor, gripped the hair at the back of Hermann's head roughly, coaxing a very un-Hermann-esque groan to be uttered into Newton's mouth. He wasn't enough in his right mind to be ashamed of himself.

He did back away though, saying quickly, "You're freezing. I've got the water heating up."

Newton, heaving in breath like he'd just finished a sprint, nodded manically.

Newton was the one that got them both on their feet and headed to the bathroom, as Hermann's cane was forgotten somewhere on the floor—maybe somewhere near Newton's glasses.

The moment they got the door to the bathroom shut, they were upon one another once more, and Hermann found himself pressing Newton up against the door. It seemed that without any experience to help him, his natural instincts, something carnal that all people possessed, were making him know what to do. Naturally he was taking a more aggressive role with Newton basically crumbling beneath him, and he really didn't mind that.

Then Newton backed away again. "Okay, back up a fuckin' minute. Can we talk about this for, like, three seconds?"

"What's to discuss? I would rather like to fuck your brains out. As soon as possible, preferably, or I might actually go mad."

Newton's eyes got big again at Hermann's use of vulgar language—he was actually pretty surprised at himself, on that note—but he regained his composure after a moment and said, "Yeah, I actually caught that, believe it or not. But… is this a one-time thing, a thing that's gonna lead to other things—do you even have the things we need to do this? Because there's—"

"If you are referring to lubricants and condoms, I am in fact stocked up on both of those things." Embarrassingly, Hermann had felt the need to buy them the moment he thought a single lustful thought about Newton (and actually consciously admitted it to himself, that is). And he had done a bit of internet research on the art of male/male intercourse. Hermann Gottlieb was nothing if not prepared. "And as for the rest… I quite think we can deal with all that later."

There was a beat of silence before Newton nodded again. "Yeah, yeah, later, you're right." And they resumed their harsh kissing. Hermann continued to remove Newton's shirt as Newton peeled away his sweater vest and soon they were both bare from the waist up. A pause in undressing to explore each other greedily. Hermann's mouth slid down instinctually to the art across his skin, trailing down his neck and pausing at his shoulder. He'd always wanted to taste it. Now he could. He even nibbled at the skin, which earned him a loud-enough-that-possibly-some-neighbors-heard groan.

"God, you're gonna be the death of me," Newton said, half a complaint, half a joke, but his voice still filled with uncontrolled lust.

He paused his onslaught for long enough to reply, "I've thought the same about you for ages. Now do shut up again, if you please."

It wasn't long before they clumsily removed their trousers as well, and Hermann had to stop and gape. Not at the most obvious thing to gape at when you see a man naked for the first time, but at the tattoos that stretched farther down his body than Hermann ever could have wished for. Down his thighs, on his calves. Everywhere. He let his hands run down his legs, moaning again in appreciation as he bent down to kiss a tattoo at his shoulder.

They were both uncoordinated and didn't mind the slightest bit as they climbed into the shower. The gathering steam and the too-hot water only made Hermann's already overly-intense feelings more uncontrollable and powerful and he grabbed for Newton again to kiss his mouth harshly, to tangle tongues, to slam him against the tile wall to let his hands explore his body again.

Hermann wasn't sure what had possessed him. He hardly recognized himself at the moment… and still couldn't bring himself to mind that fact.

"Turn around," he said through gritted teeth, and Newton obliged. Hermann shoved at his back so he was bending over. He let his hands graze the tattoos on his back that he hadn't had the pleasure of seeing yet, but then called his attention to where he very much wanted to place his throbbing prick. He reached blindly for the lubricant and luckily found it without difficulty.

He knew because of his research the preparation required as not to hurt Newton during this process, so he slathered the lubricant over his fingers before pressing a single one into Newton.

"Relax," he said, both soothing and chiding at the same time, letting his other hand rub his lower back. Newton did relax, so Hermann let his finger slide deeper in, and then inserted another. He experimented for a minute, Newton's breathing accelerating quickly.

"Wait, Herms—to—to the left a little—right—ah, fuckin' shit, there."

Hermann had learned enough about male anatomy to know he had found the prostate, which was apparently sensitive.

He continued this for a bit longer, but he had never had his dick call quite so much attention to itself before and he couldn't ignore it any longer. After the application of both condom and more lubricant, Hermann was nearly quivering with anticipation.

This was actually happening.

_Dr. Gottlieb, what has happened to you? _he thought for a moment.

_Newton Geiszler happened_, he replied to himself before pressing inside.

The loudest moan yet escaped Newton's lips—it figured he was always loud, even when he wasn't actually _speaking_—and it mingled with Hermann's own, which came out without reservation at the indescribable feeling he was experiencing. Anything that may have been left of his brain vanished and the only word that made sense to his fuzzy mind was _MOVE_.

He gripped Newton's hips hard as he started a steady rhythm, the water beating against his back as Newton's wonton noises and occasional cursing and dirty talk caressed his eardrums. He never thought the sound of Newton Geiszler would be so attractive to him.

He naturally picked up speed the longer he kept at it, and he couldn't believe how natural it felt, how effortless it was. Newton was stroking himself in time with Hermann's thrusts, and Hermann didn't mind that. He was sure that, as it was his first time, he wasn't coordinated enough to do both simultaneously.

Tension was building inside of him. He knew he was close, and he could give a little better than an educated guess that Newton was too, with the mixture of the sounds coming from him and their connection that Drifting had caused.

Hermann had, this whole time, kept from saying anything in particular. But it slipped from his lips accidentally. "_God_, Newt."

"You just called me—" he began breathily.

"Shut up, Newton."

"Shutting up."

Another ten seconds and Hermann finished, ramming back in hard, and Newton, with a moan, did the same. Hermann caught his breath before removing himself and turning Newton around to kiss him again. They stayed under the water for a few more minutes before Herman turned it off, getting out and tossing Newton a towel. In silence that was a relief to Hermann, they dried off and, without actually deciding to do so, both went to the bed and lie down, Hermann's head on Newton's chest.

He traced the lines of Newton's tattoos, utterly amazed at what the past hour of his life had consisted of.

"You just don't seem like a tattoo guy," Newton finally said.

"I wish you'd stop talking."

"You're going to have to let me talk eventually. If you hate me talking, this isn't going to work," he said logically.

"I don't hate you talking," Hermann admitted. "But right now… I'd just enjoy the quiet."

"Okay," Newton said. "But… I still want to know if… was that _just_ sex? Cuz…" He trailed off.

Hermann looked up to meet his eyes, and then pressed a kiss to his lips.

"No. Not just sex."

"Oh good, cuz—"

"Shut up, Newton. Just give me ten minutes of silence and you can talk my ear off." He regretted the deal immediately, but still thought it only fair.

"Alright, I can handle that."

It lasted two minutes before he spoke again.

"Can I just say one thing?"

Hermann sighed. "Yes."

"You're damn sexy, you know that?"

Hermann's face went hot with embarrassment. "Erm… no. I didn't know that."

"We sure as hell better do that again. A lot. But maybe have dinner first."

He looked up to meet his eyes again.

"I suppose dinner is a pretty decent idea," he said, and Newt grinned at him. He couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

**Hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought.**


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